Danganronpa Secret File Makoto Naegi's Worst Day Ever

Part 11

“Wha—?” Makoto gasped as he stumbled back to the front of the bus.

Jutarou pointed his knife at the driver, who was still in the driver’s seat, and said, “Stand up slowly, and step away from the wheel for me, would you?”
As if in protest, the driver squeezed his lips shut, frowning at the man with the knife.

Jutarou took a deep breath, then let it all out at once. “I asked you to step away from the wheel,” he repeated, as intimidatingly calm as ever.

“Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Don’t think I don’t know there’s a button somewhere you can press to alert someone on the outside in case of an emergency. Should, for some reason, you decide to play the hero and push that button”—he pressed the knife up against Makoto’s throat—“I can’t guarantee this boy’s life.”

In an instant, all the color drained from Makoto’s sweat-drenched face.

“So, what’ll it be?” Jutarou asked the driver.

“O-Okay!” the driver said, standing up and lifting the bar that separated the driver’s seat from the rest of the bus.

After he had stepped out into the aisle, Jutarou turned his attention back to Makoto.

“Now,” he said, “you sit down in the driver’s seat.”

“Huh?”

“You’re my hostage,” he said, then shoved Makoto into the driver’s seat.

Makoto grunted as he fell backwards.

Jutarou then lowered the bar, locking it into place and completing his makeshift cage.

Makoto didn’t understand what Jutarou’s intentions were. He wondered, completely inappropriately, if he had any business sitting in such an important seat.

Jutarou, on the other hand, was preparing to execute the plan he had been working on up until that point. It was a straightforward, spur-of-the-moment plan, but simplicity was best when trouble struck.

First, he made the driver—the person who posed the greatest threat—collect the scattered jewels and put them in a backpack stolen from one of the passengers. While the driver was doing that, Jutarou kept close watch on the passengers, ensuring none of them did anything that would compromise him. It probably wasn’t necessary, though,
considering everyone was still paralyzed with fear; no one made any attempts to pull out their phones and call for help or signal to someone outside the bus. But just to be absolutely sure, Jutarou said to everyone there, “For your own good, no heroics, all right? I haven’t stolen anything of yours, so this whole thing has nothing to do with any of you. If you all just zip it and keep your noses out of my business, it will continue to have nothing to do with you. Simple as that.”

The passengers sat, trembling in silence, just waiting for everything to be over—all of them except one.

With one eye half-open, he watched the events on the bus unfold, waiting patiently for the bus-jacker to let his guard down. His chance would probably come when the driver finished gathering the jewels, thought the bearded old man. He was almost positive that the robber—who was currently watching his surroundings like a hawk—would
direct his attention to his loot once it came back to him.

A second later, the driver, on his hands and knees, muttered up to the thief, “Umm, I’ve got everything...”